“And the Swensens? How are they doing financially?”
“That's getting very personal.”
“Murder -- is a personal business.”
Dinelli slumped in her chair. “I would say not as well. Mr. Swensen enjoys the good life, perhaps sooner than he ought to.”
“In what way?”
“He has a speedboat on Sahauro Lake, a house more expensive than he ought to, a cabin near Flagstaff, thousand dollar suits, flies first class, things like that. He can always charge on his Visa Gold Card, but on any given day he would have trouble producing a twenty dollar bill.”
“What time did Mr. Swensen come to work Monday?”
“About 8:30, the same as usual.”
“How was he? Did you notice if he behaved in any way that was out of the ordinary?”
Dinelli shook her head. “It was a normal work day.”
“How about you? When did you get in?”
“I arrived at 7:00 as always. I took an early lunch at 11:00 and was back by 12:30. Ask anyone.”
Kosack smiled. “You handle life insurance for the firm?”
“Yes. The plan we have offers life insurance up to $300,000 per individual, both for employees and members of their family.”
“I'd like to know about the insurance on Mrs. Swensen. Do you remember when she obtained it?”
Dinelli looked at him cynically. “I suppose that's where you've been heading all along, isn't it?” Working from memory she said, “About 15 months ago. I can look it up if you need an exact date.”
A subpoena would be issued for the paperwork later so for now he let it pass. “What were the circumstances.”
“Mr. Swensen instructed me to prepare forms for maximum insurance on both himself and his wife. When I gave them to him he was upset that the limit was only $300,000 and he told me to find other companies where he could buy more. I take it this is what you want to know?”
“Go ahead.”
“He told me that he wanted another two million and he didn't want any trouble over it.” Her lips pursed as if she had just tasted something very bitter.
“What did he mean by that?”
“He said he didn't want a lot of questions. I found a company that would take the entire two million, but it required a detailed investigation so he told me to shop it around. I located two companies that offered decent rates and he instructed me to take out a million with each company. For that amount all they wanted was the premium check and a physical on Mrs. Swensen. I was to be certain each policy was double indemnity in the event of death other than by natural causes.”
“He said that?”
She closed her eyes slowly before answering. “Yes.”
“When was the last policy issued?”
“Thirteen months ago.”
“Did any of this strike you as unusual?”
Dinelli wrinkled her nose. “Unfortunately these days when it comes to Mr. Swensen nothing strikes me as unusual.”
“Did Mr. Swensen take the papers for his wife to sign?”
“No. Mrs. Swensen dropped by the office from time to time and asked me repeatedly if the papers were ready. I told her they finally were and she sat where you are and signed them.”
“How would you describe her manner?”
“Her manner? Pleasant as always. She's a lady. I don't think she paid much attention to her husband's affairs.” Kosack doubted that was a slip of the tongue from the look in Dinelli's eye as she spoke. “She told me she could not understand why her husband insisted that she have so much insurance. She laughed about that, but I don't think she found it amusing. She said she could see him having it on himself since she would have nothing if anything happened to him, but he had the business which was doing very well and she was upset he insisted she take out so much insurance. She said she didn't want to fight anymore over it so she signed the papers.”
“You say she was upset? Are you certain?”
“Oh, yes. I remember the day quite distinctly. Mrs. Swensen is a woman of great dignity, but I thought she was going to cry. I was very embarrassed for her and tried to make things go as smoothly as possible. At first I thought she was upset because she had just walked by Miss Iverson's desk, but as she spoke to me it was apparent she was really in a state over the insurance.”
“What can you tell me about Mr. Swensen and Miss Iverson's relationship?” Now she had him doing it Kosack thought. He couldn't remember the last time he had spoken of someone so formally.
“I'm a Christian, Mr. Kosack. I don't care to repeat what I think of Miss Iverson – or what I have come to think of Mr. Swensen. Are we finished?”
~
The last words Ed Perry uttered to Jack Swensen as he left his office were, “Whatever you do, stay away from Jodi Iverson.” He advised Swensen to check into a hotel until the police released his residence back to him. The two of them would pick up his clothing later that day.
As Kosack left Dinelli's office he spotted Swensen walking through the front door having taken a taxi from his lawyer's office. The detective's presence brought Swensen up short and he stood midway between the entrance and Iverson's desk, staring at Kosack, looking as if he wanted to back out the doors. Finally Swensen walked over to the detective and said, “I hope everyone has cooperated with you.” There was the sheen of sweat across his upper lip. His thinning hair lay like a mat on his head.
“No problems. Did you and Mr. Perry get everything worked out?”
“Yes, we certainly did. This is all a misunderstanding. You'll see.”
“Take care now, Jack.” Kosack curled his heavy lips into a smile then managed to grin at Iverson as he walked by her and out the door.
Swensen exhaled then said, “Jodi, I'd like to see you for a moment.” Then he walked into his office.
Paula Dinelli was standing in her open doorway. As Iverson followed Swensen with a sway of hips Dinelli slowly closed her door.
Inside Swensen's office Jodi Iverson moved quickly to him and he wrapped his arms around her. He just held her for several moments as she stroked his hair lightly. “I need to stay with you for just a few nights,” he said finally. “The police have my house under lock. Blood! I...”
“I understand, honey. I understand. But do you think it a very good idea for you to be with me right now? You need to be a lot smarter than you've been so far.”
Swensen blinked. “I can't think about that right now.”
“O.K. honey. O.K. if that's what you want. You've got a key. Why don't you go straight there now? I'll be along when I can. Take a long, hot shower and a pill then go to bed. You look exhausted.”
“I am.”
“Don't worry about a thing, baby,” she said in her deep whisper. “I told you that you could always count on me.”
FIVE
In the Phoenix Police Department homicide squad room detective desks were nearly butted one against the other. Morrison's adjoined Kosack's like industrial Siamese twins. She pulled her lunch, packaged in sealed plastic bins, from its cold sandwich container then spread the brightly colored squares and rectangles before her.
“So what is the story on the body?” she asked her partner. Most of the other desks in the squad room were empty but telephones were ringing from one or the other almost continuously. Neither of them even heard the noise any longer. Morrison had slept six hours the previous night and felt as if she could sleep sixteen more.
Kosack was engulfing a cheeseburger from the diner, one of two he had. “Nothing. Nothing's turned up in dempsey dumpsters or alleys. Nothing in the adjoining desert. But I've got a theory.”
“That's a start. Before this case is approved for prosecution we better have a damn good one.” Kosack smacked his lips then wiped with his bare hand. “Use a napkin, Tom,” Morrison admonished.
“Right. Sorry. Bachelorhood gives me bad habits. You want coffee to go with that?” Morrison nodded and Kosack walked to the coffee pot, poured a cup into a clear plastic container, picked up three packets of
artificial sweetener then placed them on her desk. Morrison murmured her thanks as Kosack sat down and continued. “O.K. this is how I make it. Start at the Swensen house, drive up to Lincoln Drive, turn right and what do you have? Eight miles away is an exchange for the new outer loop freeway.”
“That's desert.”
“Yeah, it's desert, but you know how they're building this crazy thing. They're constructing the overpasses years ahead of the freeway. There's a whole line of them standing out there surrounded by cactus like a bunch of Egyptian tombs.”
“You're getting to be a romantic, Tom. Who would have thought.”
“Just listen to this. I checked it out and the day after the murder they were pouring the cement approaches to this particular one. This guy's a contractor. He knows the drill with something like this.”
“So you figure he drove the dead lady in his Jag to the construction site in the dead of night, dug a hole where they were ready to pour the following morning, and our body is covered by 18 inches of reenforced concrete?”
“Yep.” Kosack picked up his cheeseburger again.
“Do you have any proof?”
“Nope. But what else have we got so far? And you're right about the prosecutor. We have to have a theory to tell the jury.”
Morrison's brow furrowed in concentration. “Were there any night watchmen?”
“None.”
“Has anyone interviewed the construction crew?”
Kosack pointed a thumb at his chest. “No one saw anything out of the ordinary. Just means our man did a really good job.” Kosack burped. “Sorry.”
Morrison thought about it for a long minute. “It works. If we can't dig up the freeway to prove the body is there, the defense can hardly dig it up to prove it isn't. Actually, Tom, that is very clever.”
Kosack smiled around a bite of food.
“But is that what he really did?”
Kosack shrugged. “Who knows? Anyway he's not saying. Maybe the body will turn up elsewhere before the trial, if not, I say we go with the freeway. What the hell? It's probably what he did. Tell me what you know about the dead lady.”
Morrison popped open containers and stared at her lunch. “Leah Ann Swensen, nee Dahl, might just as well have been raised in an orphanage. Both parents dead, a sister two years younger living in Texas, no children, no former husband, no nothing. She had lived here two years before marrying the kindly Mr. Jack Swensen six years ago.”
“What does the sister say?”
“Not a thing. I can't find her.”
Kosack shrugged again. “How about friends?”
“Better luck there even though she seems to have been a homebody. You should see the charges on her Visa at the nearest bookstore. She was also a regular blood donor. I didn't think anyone did that anymore except winos. She also had a cat she showed at a few contests in town. I spoke to an Adrian Lyon up in Carefree who knew her from their cat club. Check out this name: Cats R Us.”
“A club for cats?”
“Why not? The idle new rich and all that. Anyway this Lyon,” Kosack started smiling. “What?” Morrison asked, interrupting herself.
“Lyon. Cats. Get it?”
“Oh, lion. Funny. Do you want to hear this or not?”
“Shoot.”
“A-dri-an says that for months Leah had not been herself. She last showed her cat two months ago and Adrian said Leah was so upset she insisted they have coffee and talk. She says she got Leah to tell her what was bothering her. It seems our dead lady thought kindly Jack Swensen was going to kill her. She started crying. I guess it was quite a scene and very out of character. Adrian told her to go to the police but Leah refused, said she loved her husband and didn't really think he would hurt her.”
“That makes a lot of sense.”
“She was being emotional, Jack. Adrian couldn't get anymore out of her. Two other friends say they knew she was troubled but didn't know about what.” Morrison dipped her fork into the cottage cheese. “I subpoenaed her doctor and his lab. They had a slide of her blood from some tests she had a few months ago. I'll turn it over to Maria when I get it.”
“Good. At least we're having some luck here.”
Just then a tall, lean, white mustached man in a black suit, wearing a pearl grey Open Road Stetson with its narrow brim entered the room.
Kosack looked up from his second cheeseburger. “Hello, Ranger.”
Goodnight approached the pair, moving with casual elegance. “Hello, Tom. I understand you're working the Swensen case?”
“That's right.” He regarded Goodnight for a moment before saying, “You know my partner? Ruth Morrison this is John Goodnight, late captain of the Arizona Rangers, known to one and all as 'Ranger.'”
Goodnight swept his Stetson from his head and said, “It's an honor to meet you, ma'am.”
“You're the one in the paper, right?” Morrison said, fixing her gaze on the darkest pair of eyes she had ever seen. “The cowboy who shot out that tire at long range and single handedly rounded up some outlaw rustling gang?” She was smiling as if bemused.
“The situation has been considerably exaggerated, ma'am. Sheriff Ludwig handled the investigation and deserves any credit. I just assisted a bit.”
“What's this 'ma'am' business? Do I look like your mother or something?”
“Don't worry about it,” Kosack said, still staring at Goodnight. “That's the way he talks to any woman over the age of sixteen. What can we do for you?”
Goodnight hooked the leg of a nearby chair with the toe of his boot, slipped it over and took a seat. From his inner jacket pocket he extracted an envelope which he handed to Kosack. “Earlier today Combined Occidental received a call from an Ed Perry who said he is representing a Jack Swensen.”
“I thought you were retired?” Kosack had the cop look now, flat and hard.
“I'm working for the National Insurance Crime Detection Institute. We investigate problem insurance claims for nearly every insurance company.”
“What is it Perry wanted?” Morrison asked.
“I received my information second hand, but I take it he was making waves, as if he intended to file a demand for payment.”
“He wanted payment on Leah Swensen's life insurance?” Morrison asked incredulously, glancing at her partner. “This case is only three days old! We're still searching for a body!”
“Let's say he was laying some groundwork, but he rattled the claims manager. I checked the computer and came up with three life policies on Mrs. Leah Swensen. They're summarized for you in that report. Two point three million dollars with a double indemnity clause for death other than by natural causes.”
Kosack handed the report to Morrison who slipped the sheet of paper out. “Does Swensen collect?” Morrison asked, glancing up from the summary.
“That will depend on the outcome of your investigation. He doesn't collect if he's convicted of her murder. The terms of the policies and state law say that the person criminally responsible for the death of another cannot collect on insurance. Of course, he's innocent until proven guilty and his lawyer can file a demand for payment any time he wants.”
“Who gets the money if Swensen's convicted?” Kosack demanded.
“According to the policies it would go to the second beneficiary, Mrs. Swensen's sister, Lana Dahl, in Ft. Worth, Texas.”
“You have an address?” Morrison asked.
“Just a name and city. I can check further if you want,” Goodnight offered.
“Please. I'd like to talk to the sister.”
“What for?” Kosack interjected. Since Goodnight had walked into the squad room his entire demeanor had undergone a change. “You aren't going to try and run a parallel investigation into this, are you Ranger? That could get dangerously close to obstruction of justice.”
Goodnight smiled then answered with deliberation. “No investigation, but like I said, this particular claims manager is pretty skitterish. He's requested a preliminary status report on
the investigation. He wants some specifics so he can fend off Mr. Perry. I've told my supervisor this really isn't the time to be doing something like this, but...” His voice trailed off.
“The investigation is just beginning. We don't have any specifics to give out,” Kosack said evenly.
“I understand. The last thing I want is to be underfoot, but I have to provide a report. Would it be possible for you to fill me in a bit? Nothing that is sensitive you understand. Then I could get out of here and let you two get back to work.”
Kosack leaned forward across his desk. “No, it wouldn't be possible. You watch yourself, Ranger. If I find you're interfering with this investigation I'll have your head in a wringer.”
Morrison looked at her partner then at the insurance investigator, confused by the obvious tension. Two detectives across the room were staring openly at the ex-ranger and their manner was not friendly. “My partner's right, Mr. Goodnight. Can we obtain copies of the policies and any other documents you have?” she asked. “We might be able to help you out later on.” Kosack shot her a look.
“I understand. It will be my pleasure to turn over anything we have, ma'am. The companies require a subpoena for their legal protection, but in the meantime I'll gather what you need so as not to hold you up. Well, I thought I'd pass that bit of information along.” Goodnight stood and replaced his hat.
“I see you still wear that gun,” Kosack said pointedly, staring at the man's waist.
Goodnight smiled slowly. “Old habits.”
“I didn't know insurance investigators wore concealed weapons.”
“They don't. Retired state rangers do. It was a pleasure to meet you ma'am, and good to see you again Tom. Here's my card. I'll be looking for that subpoena, and sorry we couldn't do some business here.” Goodnight strolled out of the office as quietly as he'd entered.
“Asshole!” Kosack swore once he was out of earshot.
“I thought he was quite nice, very gentlemanly except for that 'ma'am' business. I don't think he wants to cause us any trouble. You could tell he was embarrassed at even having to ask us about the case.”
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